


twelve days (for twelve years)

by andsocanshe



Series: twelve days (for twelve years) [1]
Category: Suits (US TV)
Genre: Discussion of Abortion, F/M, Miscarriage, Pre-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-28
Updated: 2019-11-28
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:01:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21597304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andsocanshe/pseuds/andsocanshe
Summary: Years later, when Donna tells Rachel that you can never go back, she means it. And only she knows that it’s not completely in the romantic sense.One-shot, post "The Other Time".
Relationships: Donna Paulsen/Harvey Specter
Series: twelve days (for twelve years) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1566679
Comments: 13
Kudos: 37





	twelve days (for twelve years)

**Author's Note:**

> I don't really know where this came from, I just kind of word-vomited it all at once.
> 
> Thanks to Karen and Heather for, as usual, remaining the best betas a girl could ask for.

_day one_

"I'm pregnant."

It's six weeks, four days, and a couple of odd hours since _the other time_ (the first round of the other time) and they're standing outside of newly minted and finalized Pearson Hardman, work hours long over, the lights of the city keeping nightfall slightly at bay. It feels colder than it should for this time of year and Donna would give anything to wrap herself up in the comfort of her apartment as she watches a hundred different emotions color his eyes and about a third as many flash across his face, settling into a stressed crease between his eyebrows.

"It's yours," she adds in order to break the silence but she knows that he already knows that.

Harvey nods and bites down on the inside of his cheek, "What-- what are we-- what do you want to do?"

"I don't know," Donna's voice breaks.

It's true. She doesn't know if she wants to be a mother, but she doesn't know that she doesn't want to be one either. Any time she'd envisioned kids in her future, she had been married and a lot more settled, not pregnant after a one night stand with her boss who happens to be the best friend that she has. And it scares her that, as much as she doesn't know if she wants this, any child she pictures in her future from this point on looks like him.

"You know that I'll support whatever choice you make, Donna," Harvey concedes and she knows that he's giving her his blessing (not that she needs it) to take the out, or to take the in, and she doesn't know which scares her more.

She does know that it's frustrating as hell, though.

"I can't make this decision alone, Harvey," she whispers and tears reach the corners of her eyes, threatening to spill.

Harvey’s movement is blurred through her tears and his fingers brush her cheek but don’t quite reach her eye because it's _too_ vulnerable for whatever lines they’ve created. She wants to break down right there. Instead, she turns out of his touch and looks off toward the street.

"I'm not saying that you have to," he whispers back, tone matching her own, "I'm saying that... it's not my place to tell you whether I think—"

That only manages to frustrate her more, a frustration that she seems to have no control over and Donna steps back abruptly. With tears more laced with anger than before, she exclaims, "It's exactly your damn place, Harvey. I didn't make this mess myself, I can't— I can't carry this burden by myself. I didn't come to you because I wanted to make this choice alone. I wanted you to know. You don’t have to be involved beyond that, you don’t have to hold my hand or come to any appointments or _the_ appointment but I don’t want to make this decision by myself.”

“Donna, what do _you_ want?”

“I don’t know what I want, Harvey!”

"Donna—"

He looks at her so sincerely and she knows that he’s just as scared and confused as she is. He hasn’t even had time to process the news that she’s been mulling over since that morning and she’s asking him to make a choice. It isn’t fair.

"I should go."

And so she does. He doesn’t stop her.

—

_day two_

He doesn’t call.

He doesn’t come by.

Donna spends a third of her Saturday in bed with a book and the other two thirds either in front of the toilet or avoiding anything that makes her want to be there. It’s a mix of morning sickness and stress, she’s sure, because the only thing that sounds edible is whipped cream (she’s not touching that thought with a ten foot pole) and because she left Harvey on the street the night before after blindsiding him with the news that their willingness to ignore the number one rule of sex ed had resulted in the consequence neither of them were prepared to deal with.

—

_day three_

The truth is that Donna doesn’t know whether she’s more relieved or angry that Harvey hasn’t called her.

On one hand, it's not just her... _problem_. They did this together, they made irresponsible choices, and they should have to handle it together.

On the other, Donna knows Harvey. She knows that he hasn't called or come by not because he’s the kind of guy that wouldn't step up and be a father to his child (he isn’t, she’s sure), but because she blew up at him for trying to do what he believed was the right thing.

Maybe she should call him.

_She doesn't._

—

_day four_

Harvey's at her desk on Monday morning with an apologetic half smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes, two coffees in hand, and a box of croissants from a place near the DA's office that he knows she loves.

"Can we talk?"

"You want to talk?" she replies a little too harshly, barely catching his minor flinch but she's still upset. Her hormones are out of whack, she's got a sack of cells that she's becoming more inclined to think of as a (their) baby growing in her uterus, and a pretty big decision to make soon but she still doesn't know whether either of them want this or not. "In the office?"

"In my office?" he suggests and accepts the resigned look on her face as "fine" before he holds one of the two coffees out to her.

"Decaf?"

"No. A little bit of caffeine is supposed to be fine."

Donna raises an eyebrow at his sudden knowledge of anything related to pregnancy and Harvey only shrugs, turning to walk into his office, "I bought a book."

"A book?"

"A book."

"So, Harvey Specter's reading _What to Expect When You're Expecting_?" she chuckles at the thought, the heaviness of the situation fading ever so slightly and Donna realizes that it's been too long since she's felt that way.

"You can laugh," Harvey says as he turns to face her, his tone serious but a hint of a grin on the edge of his lips, "But in case... in case we go through with this, I wanted to be prepared."

_In case we go through with this._

It's sobering.

"Do you want to go through with this?"

"Donna, I told you that isn't up to me."

"Harvey."

The eye contact that they've been holding breaks and Harvey turns toward the window, staring out at the New York City skyline.

"I don't know. Do you?"

Donna swallows, placing her coffee on his desk and moves to stand next to him. Their hands almost brush and they're standing about as close as they've allowed themselves since _the other time_ changed their boundaries, but she's never felt as unsure as she does right now, "I don't know."

An eternity passes.

"I don't want us to have regrets," Harvey whispers.

Donna turns her head to look at him, surprised that she meets his gaze and she knows what he means. If they end it, they may regret it. If they keep it, it could be the same. But even now, they still don't regret whatever stupid choices they made that brought them here.

"I don't either."

They're at an impasse, still.

—

_day five_

Donna has thrown up three times in two hours and she knows that Harvey has noticed. She knows that Harvey’s concerned.

“No one’s going to figure it out,” she says when he leans against her desk, soft eyes boring into hers. It almost makes her feel pathetic, like a kicked puppy or a sick child.

“That’s not why I’m worried.”

“Harvey.”

“Donna, frankly, I don’t care if people suspect something,” he stops himself, noting the way her eyebrows reach her hairline as the line slips out, “Okay, I care but I care about you more than that.”

“I’m fine, Harvey.”

“You’ve thrown up three times and it’s not even 10am.”

“Morning sickness knows no bounds,” Donna says sarcastically.

It’s his turn to scold, “Donna.”

“I made an appointment,” she stops herself, “Not that kind, not to terminate. Not yet. But just to confirm and check things out… I’ll talk to the doctor about the morning sickness.”

Harvey nods, “You want me to come?”

“No, you don’t have to.”

“But do _you_ want me to?”

He isn’t asking if he has to sit in a doctor's office with her on a random Wednesday morning, he isn’t asking if he’s being forced against his will to engage with other dads-to-be. He’s asking if she _needs_ him.

Her silence is the answer that he needs and he leans in closer but just barely, eyes meeting hers reassuringly, “I’ll be there.”

—

_day six_

Donna isn’t sure that she’s ever seen Harvey like this— not just sitting in the waiting room of an OBGYN office, but apprehensive. His knuckles are white, fingers laced together and she’s about ready to grab his hand or jokingly suggest that he practices the labored breathing that she knows he’s seen in movies.

Of course she’s nervous, too.

She feels sick to her stomach and it isn’t just the hormones or the fact that she hasn’t been able to keep much of anything down in days.

“Donna Paulsen?” a medical assistant calls, stepping through a large wooden door frame that leads back through a winding hallway of exam rooms.

Donna stands and Harvey follows, allowing themselves to be led where they’re supposed to.

***

It’s a quick blood test and a conversation with her doctor that ultimately confirm the pregnancy, not that either of them were expecting a different outcome.

Even then, it isn’t until an all too cheery ultrasound technician is holding a doppler to Donna’s abdomen that any of this seems remotely real.

“Your first?” the tech asks as she looks between Donna and Harvey. She seems content with whatever answer she finds in the slightly tense room and gestures back to the screen, “First time parents are always a nervous wreck during the first appointment, but everything looks great. I’d say the ‘seven weeks, three days’ since conception prediction was accurate.”

She turns the screen toward both of them, pointing to a hardly visible little blob among the black and white of the screen.

“That’s it?” Donna asks.

“It is,” the tech replies, fiddling with the monitor until a steady and slightly ultrasonic hum filled the room, “And that’s the heartbeat. It’s strong… and high too.”

There are lines of worry, terror, and awe etched into Harvey’s face as he pulls his attention from the screen, “Is that bad? The high heartbeat, I mean.”

“A 152? No, of course not. Not for this stage. But if you believe in that sort of thing, old wives tales do say that higher heart rates indicate that the baby is a girl.”

***

Donna and Harvey walk out of the clinic silently, both trying to process the last hour of their lives.

“Did this change anything?” Harvey asks, “Do you know what you want?”

Donna shakes her heard, “No. Maybe. I still don’t know.”

He tells her that he feels the same and opens the car door for her, a silent agreement to table the conversation until they were on their own again.

—

_day seven_

Donna watches Harvey through the glass wall of his office the next day, a crease forming in his brow as he stares intently at the open files on his desk. It’s likely one of the contracts that he’s been trying to close for the past week.

She doesn’t realize until later that he’s staring at the printed sonogram the ultrasound tech had given them at her appointment yesterday, having snagged it from her desk drawer earlier that day. Harvey can’t seem to look away.

—

_day eight_

“I want to keep it,” Donna says as soon as Harvey opens his front door.

It’s past nine on a Friday evening, essentially exactly a week after she told him and she’s standing at his front door, trying to hold her head high as anxiety ripples through her.

“Me too,” Harvey replies without hesitation and that’s all that she needs to hear.

They’re having this baby and they’ll figure the rest out as they go.

She smiles and accepts the truth in his eyes, he _does_ want this, before turning back down the hall.

“Do you want to come in?”

“Not tonight, Harvey. You just had to know.”

He accepts that, standing in the open doorway long after she’s gone.

—

_day nine_

“How are you feeling?”

Harvey meets Donna at the place near the DA’s office upon her insistence. He asked her to have breakfast with him and now, five days after he brought her one of her favorite foods, she says that this is the only place that she can stomach anything from.

He’s not so sure he believes that it isn’t more craving than the morning sickness miraculously being cured of something she rejected less than a week ago and he told her as much over the phone not an hour earlier.

“You aren’t the one vomiting and you aren’t the one growing your child so you don’t get to say that you told me so,” Donna complains as she narrows her eyes at him, silently willing the next bout of nausea to subside.

Harvey grins and for the first time in more than a week, it’s genuine, “I told you nothing.”

“Glad we agree.”

In the end, Donna settles on grapefruit being the only thing in the place that the baby wants and is willing to let her keep down. She’s right (she’s _always_ right).

—

_day ten_

Harvey drops a book on the coffee table in front of Donna before handing her the cup of tea that he’d promised.

“Thought maybe you’d want to borrow my copy instead of buying your own.”

“You did not finish the baby book already,” Donna laughs as she props herself up against the arm of the couch in his apartment.

“I _did_ finish the baby book. Now it’s your turn, unless of course you want our kid to be born with three heads or something.”

“I don’t think reading a book is going to stop that.”

“You never know.”

Donna watches the way Harvey scratches the back of his neck, noting the stress in his shoulders and she knows that he isn’t telling her something.

“Are you going to tell me what’s wrong?”

“What? Nothing’s wrong.”

“Harvey,” Donna insists.

“I’m— it’s nothing.”

She shakes her head, not having it, “You’re having second thoughts.”

The speed to which Harvey moves to look at her and the intensity in his eyes is something that Donna hadn’t expected, “I’m not.”

“Then what?”

She’s known Harvey for years now (she’ll know him even longer, for the rest of their lives even), and she knows by now what everyone else knows; that he’s emotionally closed off, that he’s guarded and distant and sometimes seemingly unfeeling. She may be the _only_ person that knows the depth of what he feels and how he feels (even if it takes both of them years to understand what and how much he feels for her— everything).

So with Harvey sitting in front of her, insisting that he isn’t having second thoughts yet maintaining the heavy weight of whatever he’s carrying in his mind, on his shoulders, Donna knows to push.

“Harvey, please tell me. We can’t do this if you can’t be honest with me.”

Harvey hesitates, drawing out a breath and refusing to make eye contact, “What if I screw this up?”

He’s still afraid, rightfully so, and so is she. Neither of them know the first thing about raising a baby, they haven’t even discussed how this will affect their working relationship, let alone what their personal relationship is, and it’s all a lot to handle and too much to pretend is fine.

“You know my story, Donna. You’re really the only person who does. How am I supposed to be a parent when my dad was barely around and my mom…”

“Harvey, do you want to be a father to this baby?”

He leans back against the couch, staring up at the ceiling, “You know that I do.”

“Then that’s what matters. Maybe you have a pretty good example of what not to do.”

—

_day eleven_

“Something’s wrong.”

Harvey doesn’t have to see the look on her face, more pale than he’s ever seen her, to know that she’s terrified and in pain.

It’s well past eleven, nearing midnight, and they’re still at Pearson Hardman; containers of shitty Thai food spread across his office because Donna hadn’t gotten sick today and insisted on a celebratory meal.

“Breathe, okay? Breathe,” Harvey practically begs her and he doesn’t know whether he’s trying to calm her or both of them.

She’s cramping hard, harder than she should be and Donna knows what this means.

This is happening and she doesn’t want it to happen and she’s already rattling off her own set of blame in her head because there were moments when she didn’t want this at all.

“The baby.”

“I know, Donna, I know,” Harvey’s by her side and somehow, he makes her feels safe when they both know that this is coming to an end all too soon.

—

_day twelve_

It’s over before it even started.

There’s no longer a heartbeat.

There’s no longer a “fetal pole” with a tiny sack of cells attached.

There’s no longer a baby.

Maybe it should be a relief, Donna thinks. She doesn’t have to worry about trying to raise a kid in the midst of trying to understand her feelings for Harvey and she won’t spend the rest of her life trying to be seen as someone other than a secretary that had sex with her boss.

But it doesn’t feel like a relief.

It doesn’t feel like a relief because in the twelve days since she found out, in the twelve days since she told Harvey, and in the twelve days that they’ve both had to adjust to this, they’d begin to come to terms with the changes that they were about to face.

Harvey holds her in the bed in the emergency room as she sobs and it’s truly the most physically intimate that they’ve been since _the other time_ (it’s the most physically intimate they’ll be until Harvey walks into her office and she kisses him because she “just had to know” what she’s been feeling for over a decade).

She can feel him shaking through her sobs and Donna knows that he’s feeling just as much as she is whether he’s able to let himself break down or not.

“I’m so sorry,” Harvey whispers into her hair and it’s barely audible but he says it again and again as he holds her and his left hand rubs soothing circles on her back.

“I wanted it,” she breathes through the sobs that won’t stop coming.

Harvey shudders then, his arms tightening around her, “I know. I did too.”

—

years

They don’t talk about it after that first week; at least not for a long time. It becomes almost like a dirty little secret and that feels _wrong,_ but neither of them have it in them to talk about one of the hardest losses that they ever face (and will ever face) together.

—

Years later, when Donna tells Rachel that you can never go back, she means it. And only she knows that it’s not completely in the romantic sense.

She means that for a long time, longer than she's willing to admit, she saw couples on the street with a child the age that their child would be and wondered. She saw mothers, alone trying to hold onto rowdy little boys with perfectly spiked hair at the coffee cart and thought _what if_. She saw a father picking up a crying little girl with big brown eyes just outside of Pearson Hardman and her heart _dropped_.

She means that she sees the way Harvey grins at her sometimes, a grin that her subconscious knows is one that only she can elicit from him, and wonders if their baby would've had that grin.

She means that she never knew if it was a boy or a girl, and not being able to hold down a solid image in her dreams haunts her for the decade that follows the other time.

Donna can never go back. She can never go back from the what if of what her life would have been but she can’t acknowledge it either (or, at least she doesn’t for years). It's a hurt and longing that she has for her, for him, for them that she doesn’t want to allow herself and all she can do is refuse to let it swallow her because it will get easier— it does, it has, just not as easy as she thought it would be.

She spends years wondering if Harvey feels the same.

_He does_. _Of course he does_.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> Find me at @donnaandharvey on twitter.


End file.
